You would have been 41 tomorrow. You loved being 6 months younger than me, so you could call me your old lady. Thought you were pretty damn funny.

I'm not gonna lie. It's been a hell of a rough week. Worse than usual. I know it will pass, because it does. Every wave does, but this one feels enormous.

Peanut talks a lot lately about how unfair the world is. What she really means is how unfair it is that we lost you. I try to tell her that we were blessed with having you for the time we did, but I also tell her she's right.

It is unfair.

But life isn't about fair, unfortunately. It isn't balanced or pretty all the time. It has sharp edges. Some of it cuts you and leaves scars.

That's just a lot for a 12-year-old to understand. It isn't fair.

Bug misses you something fierce these days. He waivers between wanting to sit in your La-z-Boy and not being able to be in the space where you died when his hurt is too raw. He's nearly as tall as me now. Your heart would melt if you saw him. Mine does.

He lights up your parents' lives, that kid. They adore him, and he still adores them just as much as he did when he was a toddler. As soon as they bring him home, they're asking when he can come back. I am so glad they have that connection to you through him and that he feels like their house is his second home.

Peanut is so confident in her riding now. She's planning to show Jordan again this spring. We are blessed to have such a great facility, but even more importantly, an incredible trainer who "gets" her. Being at the ranch is a time when I see her relax, have confidence, and connect with the world.

And me? I'm lying here surrounded by a pile of your neckties. I was trying to organize some of your things into boxes for storage last night. The ties ruined me. I think I bought every single one of these ties for you. I remember attending events with you where you wore certain ties. I remember you asking me in the mornings which tie you should wear as you were getting ready for an important meeting or trip. So, I'm here in a pile of ties, covered in tears and snot, mostly me, not the ties.

Some people have suggested I make a quilt out of the ties, or a pillow, or skirt. Maybe I will. For now, I just want to curl up with them and remember you. And miss you. And cry on the eve of your 41st birthday.